


Riot Prrrl

by gasolinegut



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Gems and Their Humans, Getting Some in Greg's Van, Headcanon, Pearl Likes The Big Girls, Riot Grrrl, Rose Grows the Best Weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8815771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gasolinegut/pseuds/gasolinegut
Summary: There was a time when Pearl was just a little less stressed and a little more fun.





	

Picture this:

It’s the middle late 90s, and Amethyst and Vidalia have discovered Riot Grrrl. 

“C’mon, P-funk, go to the show with us.” Ame’s rolling a bomber joint to take with them. Vi’s passing on a few last minute instructions to Sour Cream’s favorite baby sitters. Pearl’s waiting for Greg to die. 

“You love riots. You have literally started riots. These are girls who are all about riots.” 

They’re hanging out in Amethyst’s junkyard room, the tall gem trying to touch as little of the couch she’s perched on as possible. The disorder makes her skin itch, but it’s better than inviting the hooligans back into her own calm little corner of the world. Ame tucks the jay into her mane and phases the door open for her partner in crime. The blonde says something about them having like four hours before Greg and Rose forget they’re watching a kid and wander off to have crazy interspecies shapeshifter sex, and that’s enough for Pearl.

“Okay, let’s go.” The purple gem and her human link arms and chant SHAPESHIFTER SEX! SHAPESHIFTER SEX! as they tumble out into the summer night, amped for the show. Amethyst gave her all the details while trying to talk her into going with them – something something small time bands on tour, no big names but still a good time, you might like this one singer – but the terrifying renegade was only half paying attention, the other part of her busy with a running internal monologue of why does she ever choose men, though? at least the women are often aesthetically pleasing, but I will never understand what she sees in the human males, they’re like Jaspers without the charm but that’s okay, she’ll get bored with him soon enough and I wonder if he’ll be one of the ones we have to chase off or if he’ll just accept it all sad and fade back into the world and really, does it matter in the end? But now she’s determined to be part of the adventure, so she catches the van keys when they’re tossed her way and doesn’t ask if they’ve been borrowed or stolen for the night. 

And again, does it matter? It wouldn’t be the first time she’s piloted a craft without permission. She’d never admit it, but sometimes Pearl sort of misses the war. 

Off they go, Amethyst and Vidalia tumbling around on Greg’s mattress, shouting lyrics and passing a bottle back and forth and, if the liquid giggling sounds are anything to go by, making out and who knows what else. The pink haired gem keeps her eyes on the road and doesn’t think at all about Rose’s lips or, for instance, that brawny construction worker woman their leader dragged back to the temple a decade ago for a long weekend that left Pearl covered in little blue bite marks and where is her mind recently? Really. It’s probably for the best that she’s getting out of the house for a bit, see what’s been going on in the world without her. 

They pull up to the half ruined warehouse and she smiles, remembering the night they blew that hole in the wall. She turns to remind her purple companion about that particular clusterfuck, but the girls are adjusting their clothes and slicking back their hair and in no mood for nostalgia. Despite herself, Pearl feels a good mood creeping in, a taste of freedom on the breeze. It’s nice to get out of the temple and away from the lovebirds. Garnet’s seemed distracted lately and they’ve hunted gems less often, leaving her too much time to stew and pine and sigh and think dark, bleak thoughts while dancing with the swords Bismuth made her in better days. 

The locals don’t give them a second look, except to shout greetings at Ame and Vi. The two of them disappear immediately, leaving the less social gem to make her own way through the crowd. She expected no less, however, and humans hold no fears for her – she’s seen too many die - and so she simply squares her shoulders and heads in to where she can hear a band already playing, all jangling chords and crashing cymbals. Eh, you could call it music if you had to. She steps through the door without paying the least bit of attention to the girl sitting on a bar stool, taking cash and stamping hands. The woman opens her mouth, looks at the stone glowing lightly in Pearl’s forehead, and gives it up as a bad idea. You have to pick your battles. 

The three piece currently fighting their instruments sound like they’ve had punk explained to them but they’ve never heard it played successfully, but the crowd is enthusiastic and, Pearl notes, mostly young and female. From across the room she spots her friends chatting up a well tattooed couple in big black boots and tshirts for bands she’s never heard of, in from out of town for the show. With a flourish, Amethyst pulls the joint from her hair and faces light up in smiles all around before they head toward the back door for the pause that refreshes. Pearl laughs a little and shakes her head. Humans always underestimate the strength of Rose’s horticultural efforts – those out of town girls may be sleeping it off in the back of Greg’s van later, whether they plan to now or not. It’s never been one of the dancer’s vices, but Rose just loves all the ways Earth’s children play games with their own minds. Why, that time she decided to experiment with fungus she damn near spawned an entire religion. 

Wouldn’t have been the first time. 

And so Pearl leans against a crumbling concrete wall and takes in the crowd. Skin ink, tribally identifying clothing, courtship rituals – after thousands of years on this planet, it all struck her as familiar in a vaguely comforting way. The details change, but the pattern remains. They adapted to the world, but they adapted the world to themselves at the same time. When she stood back and took the time to appreciate them as a whole, the gem couldn’t help feeling proud of the part she paid in saving them from extinction. One in particular, standing near the merch table with a large bottle of beer in her hand, caught her eye. Took Pearl’s smile as personal and smiled back warmly, raised one eyebrow in invitation. Maybe six feet tall, broad shoulders, wide stance, wearing an undershirt and a pair of patched denim overalls, hair cut into a shaggy mohawk that may once have been blue but now just hung loose and faded. The former rebel thinks again about that construction worker, pushes off from the wall, and crosses the room. 

They don’t talk much – Pearl’s never really known how to chat with humans. Her idea of small talk isn’t all that small, really. But who can talk with all that music going on, anyway? They wind up in the van. There’s just something so satisfying about opening up an engine and making it purr and jump, and isn’t a human just a simple engine when all is said and done? The girl smells like beer and sweat, but Pearl’s lived with Amethyst for 5,000 years and it doesn’t faze her if she doesn’t think about it. Other things she doesn’t think about: Rose. Greg. Instead she delights in the big woman’s happy surprise at being pushed back and explored by the smaller gem. When Pearl takes it in her mind to do something, she simply does it right. It isn’t until a second band’s taken the stage, played, and left again that the human gasps out a surrender.

“My band,” she sighs into Pearl’s neck, “We’re next.”

And so they step out of the van and let the ocean wind dry them. Pearl kisses her once more, feeling quite calm and lighter than she has in some time, and follows her into the venue. Amethyst and Vidalia, looking blissed out in a different way, eye her suspiciously as she pats her hair back into place. 

“Hey, P, where ya been?” Pearl is vague and smiles and they shrug it off. Right up until the band starts up with a Bikini Kill cover, a strikingly large human on the front microphone.

“Uh, this one’s for a girl I met tonight. We’re gonna have to play here again, ‘cause whoa!” and the driving beat takes them right in and Ame’s jaw drops as they reach the chorus and she realizes what the singer’s actually saying.

“Rebel Pearl, rebel Pearl, rebel Pearl, you are the queen of my world!” 

And they drag a suddenly blushing gem into the pit, and for once she’s glad she went out.

Anyway, that’s how it was told to me.


End file.
